M is for Mags
by emmdog1994
Summary: The story of Mags' games. How can she hope to win going up against the most loved tribute that District 4 has seen in eight years? Find out
1. Sacrifice

Chapter 1

"No, Alora, don't do this!" I exclaim. She doesn't look at me when I yell at her. We have had this same arguement about a hundred times over the past two years. Never have I made a dent in her determination. Never have I come close to convincing her not to do what she is about to do.

"I've told you, Mags," she tells me. "This is for the best. I've trained hard, and everybody here knows that I'm the best person for the job." The look she gives me is partly consoling, partly sympathetic.

She is right, of course. She has a better chance of winning the Hunger Games than any other girl in District 4. She is beautiful, muscular, smart, and deadly. She has the support of the entire district, even before she has volunteered. It is a no-brainer that Alora should be the one to enter the arena representing us.

The rub is that she has an entire family to support. Her four sisters are all too young to fish, and her dad abandoned the family last year for a merchant lady who sells jewelry to the richest ladies in the district. Her mother is addicted to sleep syrup, and she only spends about two hours a day conscious.

"Alora, you are too important to your family to send yourself into the arena! Plus, you'll be going in next to Onyx if you volunteer!"

Onyx Overly is the most promising male tribute our district has seen since our very own Elo Lazzian won the sixteenth Hunger Games eight years ago. That year marked the beginning of an eight year drought in the games. We haven't had a winner since then, but this year, everyone is convinced that Onyx will change that.

"Mags, I keep telling you," Alora says, the tone in her voice suggesting superiority. "I'm not scared of Onyx, I can take him. My family will survive for a couple weeks, and I'll be right back. No harm done…" she trails off. And with that, she hikes up her dress and speeds up, hoping to lose me.

"Alora!" I yell after her, knowing that she won't slow down. I'm so frustrated and scared for her that the tears start flowing, adding yet another emotion to my already overly-emotional mindset.

I run back to my house and dress hastily in my reaping dress. It is beautiful thanks to my mother. She takes used clothing from merchant women and alters them for the women in the district who can't afford to buy new clothing. This dress actually used to be a trench coat, but she cut the brown leather in such a way that it drapes itself elegantly over my slim frame. The deep brown of the dress matches perfectly with my dark brown curls that run just past my shoulders.

I apply minimal make up to my face, then jolt down the stairs. My mother is busy preparing a simple brunch for my brother and me: pineapple, swordfish, and onions – simple, but delicious. I take my spot at the table and wait for my brother, Milt, to join me.

He jumps down all the stairs and sits in the chair next to me. He is dressed nicely in grey pants and a forest green shirt. It is refreshing to see him out of his swim trunks and tank tops that he adorns daily.

His expression isn't worried. It would be comforting to know you had someone as dependable as Onyx ready to step up and take the reaping bullet for you. He doesn't mimic my apprehension at all; in fact, he looks rather excited for his first reaping.

When breakfast is done, Mom begins clearing the table. "Mom, go get dressed, we're going to be late," I insist. She regretfully throws the towel in the sink and sprints upstairs. She is back down again in a yellow sun dress in under a minute, and we all leave together.

The reaping is scheduled for 9:00, and we don't arrive until around 9:05. Luckily, they haven't started yet. I slide my way into the section reserved for seventeen year olds. I see Alora, and I slide through the crowd to stand next to her. I can't stand the thought of ignoring her in what will probably be the last few minutes I'll ever spend with her.

"I'm sorry about this morning," I tell her. The mayor is just taking up the mic, and we fall silent as he announces the names of all the past District 4 victors: Blythe Tandrum – the first Hunger Games, Ariella Vanders – the second Hunger Games, Kibbee Borgson – the ninth Hunger Games, and Elo Lazzian – the sixteenth Hunger Games.

"I don't blame you," Alora tells me. "I know you love me, and you're scared for me. But you just have to understand that by volunteering, I am saving somebody else."

"I do understand, and I know what you mean about saving somebody else," I say. "It is valiant and all, but there is a time and place for valor." I hope that with the real axe of the real Hunger Games looming over her head that my words will sink in, but she just turns away from me and listens to the mayor.

He reads the treaty of treason, the document that put us in this mess in the first place, and then introduces our district sponsor: Lillianna Laprizz. Every year she comes back, but she always looks different. This year, her hair is solid black and her face is powdered into a white canvas. Her lips are metallic silver, and so are the knee-length fake eyelashes that hang from her eyelids. They look painful.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she cheers at us, hoping for a reaction. Most of the adults applaud, and some of the rowdier kids in the mass of hormonal bodies whoop and holler.

"Let's begin, shall we?" she asks, and the crowd screams assent. Crossing the stage, she holds up her hand, the face of which is covered by no less than ten rings. Her nails are long and filed to points, deadly looking, even from this distance.

I feel Alora tense beside me, anticipating the name being read. Her hand is poised to raise, assuring that she will be the first to volunteer. And I don't doubt she will be the first and only to volunteer this year – not only does everyone know she is planning to volunteer, but they are all smart enough to not want to go in next to Onyx.

Lillianna reaches the crystal bowl of names, and she reaches her hand inside. The entire crowd holds its breath, waiting for the name to be called. Who will it be? Will Alora volunteer?

Lillianna draws in a long breath before reading the name into the microphone.

"Alora Cripis" she says. The crowd is shocked, even the mayor looks confused.

Alora no longer looks confident. She is confused, not sure what to do. I give her a small nudge forward, then she slowly walks up to the stage. Her steps up the stairs are shaky, wobbling from side to side in heels. But once she is up on stage, she looks out triumphantly to the crowd.

"Congratulations, Alora," says Lillianna. "You have won the reaping!" And with this, the crowd cheers. "Now we have the simple matter of asking for volunteers," says Lillianna. "Are there any volunteers…?" She looks out to the crowd expectantly, waiting for the status quo to be upheld.

Before this, I was powerless. I couldn't stop Alora from volunteering, it was her right as a citizen of Panem. But now, I had a chance to protect her, to save her. And I was taking it.

"I… I vol… I volunteer," I say, quietly, too quietly. Nobody except a few kids around me hear, and they turn and look at me with confused, almost hateful looks. "I volunteer!" I shout, loud enough for the people on stage to hear.

The look Alora gives me is first confused, then followed by fury. She knows why I'm doing this, and she hates it. Lillianna doesn't look surprised to have a volunteer; in fact, we have only ever had four tributes who were not volunteers.

They beckon me up on stage, and I am climbing the steps while Alora is descending them. I can't help but see the tears flowing down her face as she avoids eye contact with me. As I mount the stage, I look out over the crowd and look at their faces. They all look confused and disappointed.

"What is your name?" asks Lillianna, handing me the microphone.

"Mags," I say. "Mags Arthur."

"Well, Mags," Lillianna says to me in her strangely accented voice. "Congratulations on volunteering for the Hunger Games! Lets give her a hand, folks," she says to the crowd.

Silence.

"Oh," is all Lillianna says, clearly confused. "Well then, lets meet your district partner!" She crosses to the boys ball, and pulls out a name. "Kulas Heatherbarkley."

A small boy from the section of fourteens begins walking up to the stage, but he is stopped in his tracks by the voice that yells out from behind him, "I volunteer!"

Of course, it is Onyx. I can only see his hand protruding from the tall eighteen year old group, and he is in the back. But that perfectly tanned and muscled arm could belong to no one else. He skips up on stage, clearly excited. Lillianna feeds off of his energy, asking him, "What is your name?" as if she genuinely wants to know.

"Onyx Overly," he says, and half the girls' eyes flutter, a few pretend to faint for the benefit of their friends. I don't blame them, Onyx is beautiful.

"Shake hands, you two," says the mayor to us, and we do. It's the first time I've ever looked into those deep green eyes, and they keep me hoping that it won't be the last time. The anthem plays, and when the final notes are finished, we are escorted into the Justice Building for our hour of goodbyes.

**Hey guys,**

**I got the first chapter done! Hurray! Anyway, I hope you like how this story is starting out. Someone reminded me that part of Mags' character is that she is protective and doesn't mind sacrificing herself to protect someone, so I hope this is sufficient for her entrance into the games. Keep reading, its going to get there. I realize that the time in the capitol usually blends together, and it is hard to make it unique, but I will do my best. Review this chapter if you liked it please.**

**Keep reading,**

**Emmdog1994**


	2. Goodbyes

Chapter 2

The room I'm given in the Justice Building is plush, so fancy that I wipe my shoes before entering. The entire place is adorned in silver and teal furniture with black accents. Even the fire blazes teal, obviously some technology from the capitol. It is by far the fanciest room I have ever been in.

I sit on the velvet couch and warm my hands by the fire. It is unnaturally warm – I am on the far side of the room, and even there it is almost uncomfortably hot. Clearly, the technology that turns it teal contributes to its unnatural temperature.

The thoughts blaze through my head at a million miles per hour. 'Stupid… So stupid… You've just condemned yourself to death… Alora knew what she was getting into… Why did you have to say anything?' I'm so stunned that I don't even notice when my first visitors step into the room.

It is my mother and brother. My mom is in tears, and she immediately runs and hugs me, waking me from my reverie. My brother, too, is crying, but he doesn't rush to embrace me; instead, he hangs back by the door, as if I might bite him. "Get over here, Milt," I tell him. When he doesn't respond, I turn my attention back to my mother. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I shouldn't have done it, but I just couldn't let Alora throw away the entire future of her family. I know you two will do fine without me."

"But that's just it," she says. "we can't function without you, Mags. You are the best daughter ever, and I can't stand to lose you like this."

"I know, but I've chosen my path. I love you, and don't you ever forget!" I say, stressing the last two syllables. At this point, she is so overcome with tears that more speech between us is impossible.

My brother steps forward, and he joins our silent embrace. We sit there for another couple of minutes before the Peacekeepers come back in to retrieve them. As they are being shoveled out the door, my brother shouts back at me, "Try to win, Mags, come home."

Come home? That's impossible, and he knows it. I've never been trained, plus I'm going in next to Onyx. Surely, there will be other's like me, so I have a chance of lasting a few days. But beyond that, it is truly an impossibility.

The door opens, and my next visitor arrives: Alora. Just the expression on her face makes me cringe. The look of pure fury would curdle milk. "What was that!" she screams at me.

"I told you," I say. "You can't abandon your family, not now. It isn't right."

"I'll decide what is and isn't right for my family!" she says. "You think this was selfish of me, to want this. I was going to do this _for _my family! We'd get a big house in Victor's Village, and we'd have enough money to buy whatever we want!"

"But you would die! You're no use to your family when you get shipped back in a box!" I say. "I did this for you!"

"For me?" she exclaims. "How is this for me? You jump in and steal my place in the games, steal my glory! I have trained for this for two whole years, and you mean to tell me that by ripping out the rug from under my feet, you were helping me?"

Trying to bring down the volume of the conversation, I say, "You will thank me when you are old and gray. When you have grandchildren who love you, and the possibility of them entering the Hunger Games keeps you up at night. Then you will understand. You will see that your family loves and needs you, and I couldn't let you let them down like this."

She sits in another chair on the other side of the room. Her face is pouty, like a spoiled child who was just told no for the first time. We sit in silence until the peacekeeper signals that it is time to leave. As she is leaving, she halts, and asks a final question. "Why did you even bother?"

Recalling our conversation of a few hours ago, I quote, "You just have to understand that by volunteering, I am saving someone else. And that someone is you…" I add to the end.

The door quietly clicks closed.

I don't receive any more visitors. The hour slowly crawls by, and my mind is so full that I can't even form a complete thought. I sit in silence until the peacekeepers collect me for my ride to the train station.

The car that I sit in with Onyx is nice. The seats are leather and there is a steady, cool current of air that blows out of the ceiling at me. Mostly, I try to collect last images of home to carry with me through the sure-to-be agonizing week ahead of me.

Onyx and I don't talk, but we make awkward eye contact every few minutes. It is annoying, and even after I stop looking in his direction at all, I feel like he is still staring at me while I'm not looking. I feel uncomfortable, and I'm about to ask him to stop when we arrive at the train station.

Shell shocked by the number of cameras there to greet us, I quickly decide on what demeanor I should wear. I don't want to be portrayed as a weakling, but I don't want to come off too cocky either. I decide to do my best to wipe all emotion from my face, but I can't help the shock slip into my face as hundreds of _click click clicks _go off from the flashes the moment I'm out of the car.

We push our way to the door of the train and hop on board. Happily, I close the door behind us, and quietly murmur a hasty goodbye to the district that has treated me so well for the last seventeen years of my life.

"Goodbye, District 4" I whisper. "And thank you."

**Hey Guys**

**Yes, I know this chapter was really short! So I'll let you off the hook: if you reviewed the first chapter, you don't **_**have **_**to review this one, but I'd still like you to if you can. I decided that it would flow better if I made the entire train ride one single chapter for fluidity.**

**Secondly, I would like to clarify something. Yes, Mags is supposed to be about eighty in Catching Fire, but for a certain reason, I have decided to enter her in the **_**24**__**th**_** Hunger Games. I know my math is a little off, but I chose this one for the same reason Suzanne Collins chose Katniss and Peeta for the **_**74**__**th**___**Hunger Games… Hint Hint…**

**Thirdly, I would like to clarify something that came up in one of the reviews that bothered me:**

**I AM A BOY**

**LOL not sure if you all knew that about me, but I am a guy. So if you did not know that, now you do! Anyways, next chapter should be up by… maybe… Wednesday? If not, don't worry, I just got a little distracted. All in good time, my children. **

**Keep reading,**

**Emmdog1994**


	3. Travels

Chapter 3

The train is even fancier than the room in the justice building. The furniture is all lavish and plush and tastefully designed. It is mercifully air conditioned, a relief from the sweltering heat of District 4.

This car is a sitting room with multiple couches and ottomans surrounding an open space. Sitting on the couch at the far end sit the four most respected men and women in District 4: our victors. Blythe and Ariella, once such physical spectacles, now middle aged; however, both still look well taken care of and pretty. The men are both still young. Kibbee is only about thirty-five, and Elo only about thirty. They are both in top physical condition.

"Well," says Blythe. "what have we here?" as if she wasn't expecting us. As if this tribute train was going to leave without a pair of tributes. As if she, in the past hour, hadn't been finding out every single thing about me that she could – there was no need for her to find out about Onyx; she had trained him herself.

Onyx boldly walks forward and gives Blythe a big bear hug. It is odd to see – she is such a small woman, and he is enormous – and yet the way he looks at her is full of respect. It is already clear that she will be his mentor, knowing that it only seems fair to the victors that they control their own creations.

The attention in the room now turns to me. I'm the oddball here, the one nobody knows anything about. I stand awkwardly by the door until finally, someone addresses me.

"Well," says Kibbee. "Let me start off by introducing everybody. This is Ariella, this is Elo, and I am Kibbee. The sandy-blonde is Blythe, and I'm sure you know your fellow tribute, Onyx." They all give me a nod at their respective times, but the smiles are nonexistent; in fact, the only one not scowling at me is Ariella.

"I'm Mags…" I say, trying to hide the small quiver that my voice has taken on in the past hour.

"We know," says Blythe without looking at me. "You need to choose a mentor," she says to me.

I think about which of the three remaining victors I have left: Ariella won her games by sheer skill and because sponsors showered her with large sums of money that afforded her everything she needed in the arena. Strategy wouldn't be great with her, but I'm sure she would have no trouble lining up sponsors. Elo was more of a strategical player, winning by a series of tactical moves, like setting traps and betraying his allies frequently and without batting an eye. My final option, Kibbee, won simply by overpowering everyone. He was never a very good looking tribute, however, and he barely received any sponsor money before the final four.

It's a tough choice, but I go with my gut. "Ariella… I think…" She doesn't smile, but she doesn't look disappointed either. She stands and strides over to stand next to me, and shakes my hand.

"Now," says Blythe. "I would ask whether or not you would like to be coached together or separate at this point, but because certain _complications _have arisen, it is my choice that Onyx, my tribute, will be coached separately." I can tell by the way she slurs the word 'complications' that she really means 'because you are here and not Alora.'

"Ok," is all I say. I'm beginning not to like Blythe very much. She seems genuinely enraged, and I know that it is because I have just split in half the chance that District 4 has of a winner this year.

"Follow me," says Ariella, and she leads me to the dining room. She asks if I would like anything to eat, and I tell her yes because I what is left of my breakfast probably won't hold until dinner. It is about eleven thirty I'm guessing, and lunch doesn't seem to be anyone's biggest concern. I am brought a large bowl of green noodles covered in a creamy white sauce and dotted with peas. It is delicious, sweet and garlicy, more tasty than anything I've ever eaten. I'm stuffing myself, and I soon order another bowl. Ariella gives me a look, but doesn't say anything as I eat the second serving.

When I am finally finished, she gets the ball rolling. "Have you ever been trained for the Hunger Games?" she asks me. I give an immediate shake of my head, and what little hope for me she still has in her eyes vanishes. "Can you do anything that might be useful?"

"I can fish," I say. "And a few weeks ago, I went out on a shark boat and had some basic lessons in tying nets and using a trident. I've never practiced them with the mind set of using them on another person, but I could probably do it if it came down to it…" I finish reluctantly, hearing in my own voice how pathetic this must sound to her. Most of our tributes enter the arena with expertise on multiple weapons and fighting styles.

"Well," Ariella says, "It's clear to me that you won't be part of the pack this year, but that won't be clear to anyone except District 4 right now. You didn't break down crying when you volunteered, and you didn't look scared at the station; therefore, we are going to try and make it look like you are just another well-trained tribute from District 4."

I don't know who Ariella thinks she is kidding. Most of our tributes are tall, beautiful, and muscled. I am not tall at all, only about 5'4'', and I am barely 100 lbs. My arms are thin and have about as much muscle as a clam. I don't look like a typical career, and my stylist had better be amazing if I'm going to win over anyone.

"Okay, so what do I do at the opening ceremonies?" I ask her.

"Be arrogant. Wave, smile, blow kisses, act zany. Attract as much attention as you can, you don't want to be looked over, not at this point," she says. As she speaks, she gets up and walks through the door to another car while motioning me to follow. I do, and she leads me to my bedroom. "You'll sleep here," she tells me. "but follow me. We're going to watch the recap of the reapings."

When we enter the television room, Onyx, Blythe, Kibbee, and Elo are all there already. They sit, eyes staring at the screen. As if on cue, as soon as we walk in and sit on a comfy green sofa, the seal of the capitol appears and the anthem plays, signaling the beginning of the program.

The reaping from District 1 is first. I watch as a tall and muscled girl volunteers. I hear that her name is Glitz before a boy of similar stature – only much more muscled – volunteers. His name is Golorian. The District 2 reaping goes in similar style. The girl who volunteers is named Dalia, and the boy is Tymus. After that, only a few tributes stick out to me: the girls from 5, 7, and 11. The boys from 8 and 11. The rest all look like scared cattle being herded to the slaughter: these notable faces are the ones that look determined and confident.

Finally, as the boy from District 12 is called and makes his way to the stage, the seal reappears and the anthem plays. We get up and head back into the dining room for an early dinner. I sit at the far end of the table while everyone else sits tightly at the other end. Our sponsor, Lillianna Lapriz, has joined us for dinner, and she makes a couple half-hearted attempts to include me in the conversation, but I don't really want to talk, so she gives up eventually.

The food is like nothing I've ever tasted. We start off with a bowl of frothy pink soup dotted with raspberries, followed by a frozen lemon covered in a sweet syrup that almost overrides the sour lemon. The main dish is a rack of lamb cooked in an odd yellow crusting that tastes similar to mustard. For dessert, we are each given a small bowl of fluffy blue mouse that fizzes and bubbles once put in your mouth.

After dinner, I go straight to my room. It is fancy, decorated in uniform white with subtle hints of blue that seem to make me feel at home. The bed spread is embroidered in electric blue thread, and it depicts the sky line of the capitol. As foreign as the Capitol is to me, the skyline, at least, is familiar.

I walk into the bathroom and inspect the utensils. The toilet is fancy but uncomplicated – the shower, on the other hand, is controlled by a touch screen panel with hundreds of options. I immediately strip down and hop in.

I push a button and tepid water gushes out of the nozzle. With the touch of another button, purple steam begins spewing out of one of the holes in the wall on the opposite end of the shower. The steam smells of lavender and is so strong that I have to close my eyes. I blindly stab at the control panel until the steam goes away. I open my eyes and find that the nozzle is now spewing minute, pink bubbles that tickle my skin when they pop.

….

Fifteen minutes later, I emerge from the shower, alert, frustrated, but finally clean. I step out onto a pad that immediately dries my entire body, then place my hand on another pad that sends a current up through my head, drying my curly hair.

I dress in a simple pair of shorts and a tank top to sleep in. Before going to bed, I walk back down to the dining room and order a large cup of hot chocolate and sit slurping it for close to an hour before turning in for the night.

…

The next morning, I am woken by Lillianna Laprizz telling me to get up in her horrible accent. I lollygag getting dressed, and finally settle on a pair of black pants with a blue shirt, just one of many potential outfits in the well-stocked dresser in my room.

I walk down to the dining room again and find everyone already digging into a feast that is chilling over ice on one edge of the car. I grab a plate, fill it with eggs, bacon, and fruit, then regain my seat at the far end of the table. No one raises any objections.

Eventually, Ariella sidles over next to me. "We're about to arrive in the Capitol," she says. "When we get there, you'll be handed over to your stylists. The stuff they do to you, you won't like it, but don't complain. It will get you nowhere, and your prep team will hate you."

I nod one time, and she immediately returns to her end of the table. They don't say another word to me, and I return to my room to watch out the window as we pull into the Capitol.

It is so beautiful, even more so in person. I don't know how many times I've seen the exact same skyline on television, but some part of its grandeur is lost in the pixels. As we slow down and eventually stop in the train station, I walk to the door from which we entered the train, and stand next to Onyx. He doesn't acknowledge me in any way, not even as the doors open and we are released into the chaos of reporters on the platform.

**Hey Guys**

**Hope you liked this chapter, it's a little longer. Chapters will definitely speed up once the games start, and I'm doing my best to make this interesting. Stay tuned and next chapter will be up in no time! Review!**

**Keep reading,**

**Emmdog1994**


	4. Costumes

Chapter 4

On the platform, the cameras explode in massive clicks all around us. They seem to think that if they take a thousand pictures of us, at least one of them will capture us in some stunning pose – unfortunately, I don't feel stunning. I feel slightly off balance from walking inside the speeding train car. The sensation is familiar to the feeling of 'sea legs' which most children experience the first couple of times they go out fishing.

I follow Onyx and I do my best to copy his arrogance. His smile is gorgeous, though it is more of a smirk than anything; one side of his mouth revealing most of his teeth, the other pinched shut tightly. It is annoying to see his confidence reflected in his countenance.

When the mentors follow us out of the train, they too are photographed without relent; however, they look so much like Onyx, confidence seeping out of their every orifice. Winking, waving, they make a killing with the reporters. These are their people, and they are their champions.

We push our way through the crowd to a sparkly beige car that is stretched so that it is at least fifty feet long. It is the most beautiful car I have ever seen, and when I step inside, the interior outdoes the exterior. The comfy leather seats and dim lights catch my eye first, but pretty soon I find other things. There are small contraptions under our feet that dispense cold, fizzy drinks.

"Try it," says Kibbee. I look at him, and all the contempt he held against me on the train is gone. I pop open the lid and take a drink. The sweetness is surprising, but the bubbles are the strangest. They pop in the back of my throat, almost painful, but pleasurable at the same time. It is the most delicious thing I've ever drunk.

The car drives us through the winding streets of the capitol. The mentors are talking amongst each other, but I can't help gawking at the store fronts and sky scrapers. The oddest people on the streets stop and point to their friends when they see our car. I wave back at them, hoping they might recognize me and send me a gift in the arena.

We eventually go down an alley where there are no bystanders, and we stop. I am about to open my door, but Elo's hand reaches out and stops me. That's when I feel it, just a small shift in the car, but, in turn, this small shift begins a weird series of events.

The windows seem to be lowering themselves to the ground, and strange noises are coming from beneath car, almost like large bubbles popping. I also feel a gentle swaying, very similar to the sensation of being on a boat.

Then I realize what is happening – the car is sinking. Sinking into the ground.

My first instinct is to panic, but then I see the faces of Blythe and the other victors, all calm and not scared at all, so I relax.

Soon enough, we are completely submerged in the liquid road, and then, all at once, we are safe and sound on the floor of a tunnel. The driver starts the car again, and we take off. Not two minutes later, we come upon a door, and I am instructed to go through it.

I get out of the car and walk through the door. I am greeted, not by my stylist as I'm expecting, but by three strange looking women. They introduce themselves to me. Hyvee is purple all over except for her excentric green hair and luminescent green eyes that I'm sure can't be natural. Frittya has a normal complexion, but she has a pattern of jewels that snake up and down both sides of her body imbedded in her skin. Yuvi has a strange symbol etched in her face, and her skin and hair are matching shades of teal.

I introduce myself as Mags, and they all seem genuinely delighted to meet me. I am whisked into an all white, circular room, and I am told to strip down. I would rather not, but I don't argue with them per Ariella's instructions. I am immediately examined thoroughly by my team. I feel uncomfortable, but I don't object, and the examination is over before I know it.

I am then waxed within an inch of my life. Every piece of hair on my body that is not attatched to my head in some way is waxed off, leaving me feeling bare and cold. They escort me over to a bath waiting for me. I can tell before I plunge my body in that there are chemicals in the water, the scent radiates off pleasantly.

The water is very soothing, but I am only allowed to sit in it while they do my nails. After only twenty minutes, I am pulled out, nails all perfectly rounded and buffed. I seem to shine all over, but they aren't done yet. They wash my hair with about six different products, then begin clipping the ends. They place my hand on a small metal plate, and an electric current dries my hair. They then straighten it which I have never done to it in my life.

When I look in the mirror, I am surprised by how good I look. My hair flows down lower than I'm used to without my normal curls. My eyebrows are thinner and more angular, but they contribute to the structure of my face. My skin is radiant, and every feature of my body is highlighted in some way.

I am then introduced to my stylist. His name is Heebee, and he is perhaps the craziest capitol citizen that I have seen so far. His skin is covered for the most part in black fur, but at his hands and feet I can see that it is dark blue. His eyes are yellow and have slits like a cat, and he has long whiskers that fall to the floor. I immediately shy away from him, even though I have watched him on T.V. for as long as I can remember. As far as I know, he has been the stylist for District 4 since the very first Hunger Games.

He inspects the prep teams work, and once it gets a passing grade, we make our way out into a small chamber where we eat lunch: thinly sliced meat that has been prepared in an orange paste that is sweet and savory, accompanied by a salad of vegetables I have never seen before. Absolutely delicious.

Heebee tries to talk to me a lot, but I can't get over his appearance, and his attempts at conversation soon die out. We eat in silence, and when we're finished, we return to the room from whence we came.

Heebee, with the help of the prep team, begins plastering me with shimmery light gray and sky blue scales. He doesn't cover my entire body, but he creates a pattern that wraps up my legs where they meet at my belly button. They continue up my torso where they cover my chest and then snake up my neck and onto my face. The scales surround my eyes and my forehead.

Heebee then puts a head dress on me, and when I look in the mirror, I see what I have become – a shark. The head dress is like a large row of pearly white triangular teeth. Two small white balls have been placed on my head, creating the effect of eyes. And as a final touch, A large fin is attached to my back.

Sharks are regarded with a lot of respect in District 4. They claim the lives of many fishermen every year as well as a few unlucky children. The highest class merchants can afford to send vessels out to fish for sharks because their meat is so delicious, but they always have to pay off the families of any man or woman who dies on the voyage.

I have been out on two such voyages because the pay is so good. I learned a lot on those voyages, like not to go into the water with an open wound. There was a man who got a sizable cut on his palm and went down to wash it in the water. Before any of the veterans could stop him, a shark pulled him into the water, and that was the last we saw of him except for his jacket which floated to the surface.

It was on these voyages that I learned how to endure on little and cope with horrific sights. We saw a man float to the surface from another boat that had crashed on rocks, and the entire bottom half of his body was gone. When we flipped him over, his face was white, the look of agony still etched on his face.

I am consumed with memories of these voyages as Heebee finishes my costume. Where I am not covered by shimmery scales, he covers me with chalky gray powder, completing my gray façade. I still feel beautiful, but I doubt whether this costume is revealing enough that people will recognize me afterwards.

When I am totally finished, Heebee leads me through a few hallways until we come to a set of elevator doors. They open, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder as we enter. We ascent rapidly, and come out in a very very large open room. Around the exterior, twelve horse drawn carriages await. In the middle, assorted tributes stand, for the most part alone. The exception is the group forming in the middle, comprised of the girls from 1 and 2, and the boy from 2.

I look around briefly, but I don't see Onyx, and Heebee has gone off to talk to other stylists. I just stand awkwardly by our carriage. Finally, I see Onyx walking towards me, looking dazzling in a very similar costume to mine, only his scales are less sparkly, more muted.

"Come on," he tells me, some anger leaking into his voice.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To socialize," he says, and he grabs my arm and pulls me towards the group that is now full of the tributes from Districts 1 and 2. When we get there, I stand up straight, but I'm still a good four inches shorter than the shortest.

"I'm Onyx," he says. "And this is Mags."

"I'm Glitz," says the girl from District 1. "My district partner is Golorian." They both look like models, and Golorian looks as though he could tear me in half.

The boy from District 2 then pipes up. "I'm Tymus," he says. "And this is…"

"I'm Dalia," says the girl loudly, clearly not wanting to be introduced by him. We all shake hands, then pick up a conversation about how bad the prepping for the ceremonies sucked. I seem to connect with Dalia and Glitz when we talk about getting waxed. It felt good to talk to girls my own age.

Finally, we were all called to our chariots. Onyx and I get in just as Glitz and Golorian head out the door. Our horses pull us closer to the doors. "Why did you invite me to talk to them?" I ask Onyx.

"Blythe's orders. We're to keep you with the group even though you weren't trained. She says that if people see that the girl from District 4 isn't one of us, then they might think there is an opening. And there is no opening." He says this whole thing without looking at me, and I am shocked.

Finally we emerge, Capitol citizens scream our names! As each flash of each camera comes our way, the pattern on our bodies made of scales lights up and scatters the light in all directions. In the dimming twilight, we look stunning on the large televisions I see on the sides of buildings.

I wave. I blow kisses, I scream into the wind. Occasionally I hear my name shouted from the crowd, mostly I hear "ONYX! ONYX!" I don't care though, if he takes all the press, I might be able to slip under the radar.

Finally we come to the city circle in front of the training center. The chariots one by one line themselves up. The President steps out onto the balcony, wishes us a happy Hunger Games, then the anthem is blasted. The cameras zoom around to each district once more before we are pulled back into the training center.

**Hey guys!**

**Whew! This chapter took a while to write, I'm sorry, next one should be better. I hope you guys are enjoying the story, should get better in the next few chapters. Please keep reading, and I'd appreciate a few more reviews if its not too much trouble. **

**Thanks**

**Keep Reading**

**Emmdog1994**


	5. Impressions

Chapter 5

The doors shut behind the ugly pair of tributes from District 12, and silence falls over the tributes. The excited buzz that hung over us outside is gone, and now we are just stuck in the entrance hall, in costumes that now seem contrived and overly flashy. We gaze around, unsure of what to do.

It is the pair from District 11 that moves first. They are dressed in skimpy overalls, the girl with a skimpy plaid button down, the boy with nothing. They both stand tall with matching height, dark skin, and brown eyes. He is merely intimidating physically, but the girl has a strange, foreign beauty about her. Skin clear of blemishes, body full and lush, she holds her head high. Most of the girls can't hold a candle to her beauty, including me.

I look over and see that Glitz is glaring at the girl. Probably the prettiest besides this new girl, Glitz wasn't really expecting any competition in that department. While it is true that the girl from District 1 is usually the pretties because it is a requirement to be trained there, that doesn't mean that pretty girls from other districts don't come to the Capitol – take Ariella for example.

As the pair walks past us, they do their best not to acknowledge us, but I see the girl make awkward eye contact with Onyx, then turn sharply away. Even stranger, when they walk past the District 1 carriage, she gives the slightest cough. It is a small gesture, but I'm almost positive it is a small attempt to demean Glitz.

When they push the button on the door of the elevator, everyone else notices what they are supposed to do now. Onyx and I take an elevator with the pair from District 7 who are clothed in wood chips and leaves – it isn't very attractive. The boy looks to be about fourteen, the girl about eighteen. I remember that she looked tough when she was reaped, and the same thought comes to me again in the elevator. Her face is narrow and rigid, not unattractive but not pretty either. She – like the girl from District 11 – seems to have confidence out of the yin yang.

We drop the District 7 pair off and continue up to our loft. Everyone is waiting for us up there, including the victors, our stylists, and Lillianna. And spread on the table is a luxurious first course. We take our seats around the table, and servants dressed in white come and dish the food.

We start with a shellfish stew, then we progress to a salad of corn and lettuce with purple and green grapes and dressed with a sugary syrup. The main course for each of us is a typical filet of fish, but when I am told it is swordfish, I am surprised. Swordfish is the most expensive fish in District 4 because it is so difficult to catch, even more so than shark.

For dessert, we eat small, sugary, white things that remind me of miniature pillows. First, we dunk them in a bowl of liquid that freezes them solid, then into a bowl of gooey, hot chocolate. The chocolate melts the outside of the things that I am told are called marshmallows, but the cores are still solid. It is messy and simple, but so delicious that I gorge myself beyond capacity.

Too far beyond capacity.

I calmly excuse myself from the table and walk to the bathroom down the hall. I rush in, and without closing the door, and heave the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The rich food rushes out, and continues on for some time.

When I am finished, I stand up from the bowl and find Ariella standing outside the door. I am expecting a scolding, but instead, she says "Good job. I didn't think that you were worth putting through dieting on this trip, but you are observant. You noticed that you have some extra pounds here and there, and you're doing what you can to get rid of them."

I am so confused. What? She thinks I was barfing to lose _weight? _That is the last thing on my mind, but I decide that since she was congratulating me on it, maybe I should take it as a compliment. "Ya…" I say, hoping this is an adequate response to her praise.

"I'll help you from now on," she says. "I'll arrange all your meals so that you won't have to binge. It will help in training and with sponsors, so just leave it up to me." I nod, and she walks back down the hall to the dining room where everyone waits. They all barely acknowledge us as we return.

After only a few more minutes, we head into the sitting room to rewatch the Opening Ceremonies. While watching, I take note of the tributes I noticed at the reapings.

The girl from 5 is dressed poorly, but skimpily as well. Surely, her stylist was hoping to show viewers her fierce body structure. She looks about 16, but well built none the less. She does her best not to respond to the cheering, to the crowd, looking very focused and determined. Eventually, she breaks down and begins acknowledging the crowd about half way through.

Again, I notice the girl from District 7. Poorly dressed, but fierce and determined. She waves at the crowd, but her expression is not joyous like some of them. She does what she does only because she has not yet accepted her death.

The boy from District 8 is a beast – literally. His hair sticks out in every which way, and his outfit is composed of tightly fitted leather; clearly his stylist was hoping to convey this very persona. He has muscles everywhere, bulkier than almost every other guy I see.

The exceptions are the careers. Golorian from District 1 is tall and muscled. His blonde hair is cut short and styled so that it compliments the shape of his face. His eyes are a delicate shade of blue, and his skin is pale. The front of his diamond-studded, white suit is left open, revealing his sculpted chest. He is only eighteen, but he already has a mature body.

Glitz, whose platinum hair is nearly as luminescent as the feathered dress she wears, is tall and lush. The only part of her anatomy that doesn't scream 'life' are the heartlessly dark eyes on her face. They bear no trace of sympathy, or any form of empathy at that. They are as cold as ice.

Tymus is like Golorian in that he is blonde and muscled, but he doesn't look nearly as headstrong. His eyes wander now and then, as if he has trouble focusing on what he is doing. His white and teal medical scrubs are very becoming on his tan skin with his dark hair, but he doesn't seem to notice them at all.

Dalia is striking in a tattered nurses outfit, looking as though she has just walked out of a burning building. Scorched holes litter her façade, leaving just enough fabric to cover her more revealing areas. She doesn't seem to mind that everyone can see her nearly-naked body, just that it will help her win by earning favor with the crowd.

Onyx is tall and muscled, dressed like me. I don't know if anyone saw me with how drab I look next to him in the same costume. He actually resembles a shark – fierce; strong. I just look like a shiny fish. But Lillianna reassures me that we're both striking.

With that, we are sent to bed to rest up before training begins tomorrow. I am relieved to find sleep waiting for me the instant my eyelids close.

**Hey Guys! **

**I am so sorry this chapter is so short and you've been waiting so long for it – I have had summer homework to work on which included a LOT of time typing. I felt guilty working on this when my time could have been better spent on that! But its all done, plus I don't have school for a couple weeks, so I should have two chapters up in the next week and a half! **

**I did my best to try and describe the characters that I mentioned because a reviewer felt they didn't know what they looked like… He also asked for descriptions of their characters, but I don't think the reader should know any more than Mags knows… right? Anyway, only time will tell what Mags comes to learn.**

**So I will work on this; please please please don't give up on me! This product is on its way. Oh, and because some new things might be revealed in Mockingjay (CAN NOT WAIT!) I might have to come and change things, like district industries and such… Okay, that's it!**

**Keep reading,**

**Emmdog1994**


	6. Pledges

Chapter 6

I am shaken awake by Lillianna far earlier than I would like, but see on the clock that it is nearly nine o'clock. I don't usually get to sleep in at home, but I realize that getting plenty of sleep is a good idea, considering that I am about to get trained in things that could save my life.

I find that Heebee has laid out my training clothes: a pink blouse that fits tightly over my torso and a pair of black athletic shorts that also feel like they were made to fit a five year old. I also pull back my dark curls into a ponytail with a rubber band.

My feet carry me through the hallway to the dining room where Onyx already sits, slurping down a bowl of hot grain. A portion has been set for me. On it, I am given one banana, one piece of bacon without any fat on it, and a small bowl with the same steaming grain that Onyx is hungrily shoveling down his throat.

When I have finished my breakfast, I am by no means full. But I don't complain because I know that Ariella is more willing to help a tribute who she thinks is willing to help themself, and if dieting is what it takes for her to believe in me, then I will diet. Besides, they serve lunch in training and I can stuff myself there.

Onyx and I are preparing to descend down to training when Ariella stumbles out of her room. "Come here," she tells me, wiping the sleep from her eyes. I listen intently as she says, "Its up to you whether to join the pack. They will see in training that you haven't ever been trained, but being from District 4 could still get you in, or at least hold their interests long enough to let you in until they see the arena."

She is right. Say, perhaps, that the arena is a vast ring of land surrounding and surrounded by ocean. My skills with fishing and swimming would come in handy. In fact, five years ago, both District 4 tributes made it to the final four under very similar conditions. So the pack probably wouldn't rule out keeping me even though they would be sure to see my incompetence during training.

I return my attention to Ariella. "Your second option:" she says. "Make some friends. I don't care how little you trust people. Most people are willing to make alliances, at least for a little while. Plus, nobody in the past twenty-three games has won without the assistance of another tribute. So pick wisely, and let me make the formal ally requests."

I am reassured after this discussion with Ariella. It confirms my belief that she is truly fighting to keep me alive. And I decide to head her second request which is to find some friends that are not trained murderers… yet…

I already have some idea of who I will pick – those strong girls I noticed on the first days. Five, seven, and eleven all seemed like good choices. I have to decide which would be the best to approach first, and I settle on District 5. She seemed the least mean-looking of the three.

The elevator shoots us down as fast as it did on the way up. We find the door on the main floor that leads down the flight of stairs to the underground training hall. When we step In, I see just how massive it is. Surrounding the hall are stations with trainers ready to assist the unsure tribute. Gathered in the center of the hall, most of the tributes already wait for the tall man who I can tell is the head trainer to begin speaking.

When the last few stragglers hustle in, he begins telling us that we are free to go to any station we wish. We aren't allowed to engage in any form of combat with another tribute. Lunch will be served in three hours. Then we are left to our own devices.

I wait and watch as a the tributes disperse. I catch a glimpse of the dark black hair of the District 5 girl heading towards the edible plants station. I follow her there and we begin training side by side.

It takes a while for me to get the courage to talk to her, but I eventually manage. "Hi," I say.

"Hello…?" she says, taken aback by my approach.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Tycee," she tells me. "You're Mags, right?" I nod. "I researched all the careers. Why aren't you over training with them?" As she says this, we both look over and watch as Glitz spears a dummy through the groin from twenty yards away and Onyx throw the hand-to-hand-combat trainer on the ground.

"I'm not a career," I say. I've heard this term occasionally, used by tributes from other districts. We just call ourselves the Pack, but it doesn't make a difference. Most tributes from our district do grow up with the idea of making their living by winning the games. "But I do want to start an alliance," I say shakily.

"Just you and me?" she asks, confused.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I want an all girl alliance. I was thinking you, me, 7, and 11."

"I don't know about 11," she says. "I don't think she looks trustworthy. But I guess if you convince her to join, I'm all for it." I give her a smile, and we resume our plant training. Our conversation is polite but rather forced. I guess that a mutual need for survival is too important to worry about things like awkwardness.

I approach the girl from District 7 next. I find her at the archery station where she has been since we were first released to train. Clearly, she had no skills before today, but two hours worth of practice have given her a rudimentary set of skills. Her shots don't hit the bull's eye, but they do hit the target every time which is more than I can say of myself after a taking a few shots. The instructor corrects a few simple things with my form, and I am instantly better.

I work side by side with the girl for near an hour before I start the conversation. "Would you consider an all girl alliance?" I ask her quietly. I don't make eye contact with her, but I can tell she hears me when her reach down to grab another arrow is briefly halted.

"Depends," she tells me. "Which girls?"

"Myself, you, 5 and 11," I say. "5 is in already. Her name is Tycee." I can tell she is thinking about it when the reply doesn't come instantly. But I wait patiently, holding out for an answer.

"Yes," she says. "To be frank, I don't want an alliance. But I know that I need one. So count me in." She says this with the glimmer of a smile. "My name is Aurii, and I already know you're Mags. I'll talk to you and the other girls at lunch." I smile back, and walk towards my third and final target – the girl from District 11.

She is harder to communicate with. She is so intimidating that I find my heart beating harder and faster at the very thought of talking to her; furthermore, her work at the hand to hand combat is so intense that I would practically have to pitch my request for an alliance to the instructor.

I watch tentatively while beginning a lesson with my own instructor. He teaches me basic punches and how to block high and low attacks. It is definitely not easy, but it seems a good station to learn from. The instructor is patient with me and makes me feel less helpless than I did.

After about half an hour, the girls takes a break to get water. I follow her to the fountain, and engage her in conversation as soon as she gets there. I say "We're starting an all girl alliance. Are you in?"

"Yes," she says without hesitation. "I'm down. Who are the other girls?" Her enthusiasm is evident, clearly ready for a group to enter the arena.

"You, me, 5, and 7." I look up and and she is smiling warmly at me.

"Alright, I love the idea. You guys seem strong enough, and I can't do this alone. Thanks for the invite." She says all this and then departs, getting back to her lesson.

I am a bit taken aback by her positive attitude towards the – whereas the other two reluctantly accepted, the District 11, whose name I forgot to ask, seemed to lunge at the opportunity. Unable to decipher what this says about their characters, I resume my lesson.

**HELLO!**

**OMG I am so sorry that this has taken as long as it has. It has been a busy busy busy busy couple of months. But I hope that whatever readers I still have will forgive me and stay tuned with this story. I am not going to promise another chapter for a while, but I will do my absolute best to stay on top of it. As always, review! If you've got any questions, shoot me a message! **

**Until then,**

**Keep Reading,**

**Emmdog1994**


	7. Allies

Chapter 7

At lunch, I begin to learn more about my new allies. Tycee, a girl of 15 from District 5, is a quiet and sheltered girl. She tells us that she spends most of her time reading. We all find this very appropriate because District 5's leading industry is book printing. She knows a lot about the games because the books they print are for the Capitol, and one of her favorites is about the technical issues of the games. She randomly spurts out information about the games, like when she told us that "in the eighteenth Hunger Games, game makers manufactured each of 1000 mechanical bumblebees by hand."

Besides being very clever, she is strong. We all see it in training. She is very quick, agile, and strong, even for a 15 year old. She lets us know in confidence that she prefers to fight hand to hand with a knife.

Aurii is more shy, but equally clever; however, her cleverness is more of a calculating, tactical cleverness than Tycee who just spews random facts. As I watch her practice archery, something begins to dawn on me. While I had initially judged her to be a less than fair archer, she is actually very good. Instead of aiming for the heart and neck as most people do, she spreads her shot out between the neck, heart, face, armpit, and groin. She tells me that these are all very vascular areas… which she then tells me mean areas with lots of blood…

The final member of the gang is Tessala. She is very quiet and also extremely intimidating. She is very strong and excels at any form of combat that requires muscles or manual dexterity. At the age of 18, she is the largest of our group and taller than all the girls besides Glitz and Dalia. I learn that she works in the orchards of District 11 carrying heavy boxes of fruit in and out of the fields that have kept her lean and strong.

Eating lunch together has set us apart from the other tributes. Besides the five pack members and the four of us, no two tributes eat together. It is my instinct to reach out to others to invite them to eat with us, but I know that our alliance is big enough, and I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea.

At lunch, we delegate new responsibilities for training. Tycee is responsible for survival skills. She sets to work learning how to start fires from almost nothing, how to recognize edible plants, and how to make a shelter. I give myself the responsibility of learning how to make concealed traps for opponents. Such things as ropes that hang competitors by a foot and concealed pit snares can come in handy in the arena.

Tessala and Aurii are delegated the responsibilities of combat. Aurii decides to take on the job of distance killing. She branches out from archery to spear, knife, and ax throwing. She is not brilliant at any, but she does a better job than any of us could do. Tessala, easily the biggest and strongest of our group, works on hand to hand combat as well as with swords and maces.

By the end of the second day, I have exhausted the training center's supply of stations that pertain to my delegated responsibilities. Knowing that no alliance can last indefinitely, I set about learning how to fight. As someone who has been somewhat of a pacifist most of her life, I am tentative to hit anyone; none the less, I find out that I am not a worthless swordsman. The movements feel natural even though the sword itself is heavy in my hands. I withstand the trainer's onslaught of attacks with his sword for almost two minutes before he disarms me. With another hour of practice, I have almost mastered the disarming technique that he teaches me.

I am very pleased with my new skills until I catch an unfriendly glance from Tessala. It seems that she feels that I have stepped on her toes by learning her area of expertise. Not a very confrontational person normally, I decide that it would be a bad idea to let a problem like this carry over into a competition where she will have ample opportunity and justification to kill me.

I walk over to her as the tributes empty out of the training center. "Tessala," I say to her. "I'm sorry if I upset you by working on sword fighting."

She doesn't look at me when she responds. "Do you not trust that I can protect our group?"

"No, not at all!" I exclaim. "I only meant to contribute to the group. I've learned everything I can about setting traps, and I just wanted to learn something that might help to advance us in the games."

"Whatever," she says over her shoulder as she sprints to jump into an elevator with Tycee and the boy from her district.

Perturbed and a little upset, I enter an elevator with the pair from District 10. They are both small and look to be about fifteen. Standing stiffly side by side, they say nothing. I am glad that we only have to ascend four floors before I am allowed to leave the awkward space.

When I step out of the elevator, nobody really takes any notice of me. I walk straight to my room where I sit on my bed. Before I know it, fatigue creeps up on me and I am in a deep sleep.

The sound of knocking on my door wakes me up. The clock shows me that I have slept for two hours and that dinner doesn't start for another hour, so I am confused at why someone is at the door. "Come in," I call out, even though I have no idea who it is.

Ariella walks in and sits next to me on the bed. She looks a little angry. "Why haven't you told me about your alliance?" she asks. "I am your mentor. You are my tribute. I should not be hearing about this 'four girl' alliance from Onyx."

"I'm sorry," I say. I do feel bad for keeping her out of the loop, but I know she can't really care. "The alliance is me, District 5, District 7, and District 11, all girls."

She mulls them over in her mind. She must know at least one of them because she gives me an approving nod. "I can put in a formal alliance request with their mentors if you like. It will make it possible for us to pull funds together to present gifts."

"Yes, please do," I say. I am actually very grateful for Ariella's help. This is the first time that she seems to care about me and whether I live or die; however, I know that she, along with the rest of the district, is rooting for and expecting Onyx to win. Also, I know that while Onyx is breathing, none of the sponsor money will be headed my way.

She gets up from the bed and leaves. I decide to wash the sweat off from the day of training. I hop in the shower and am immediately baffled by the control panel that slides out of the wall. I push one button and a steady flow of cold water spurts out of the shower head. I deftly hit two more buttons and am bombarded with warm steam and a purple soap.

After struggling for ten minutes to find a setting that gives a comfortable shower and then another five trying to turn it off, I step out onto a pad that dries my body in one gust of warm air. I walk out the door and to the dresser to select an outfit to wear to dinner.

Dressed in a tight white shirt with an equally-constricting pair of shorts, I make my way down the hall to the dining room. Dinner is still twenty minutes off, but I sit at the table and order a glass of orange juice to wait with.

It isn't too long before the rest of the group gets to the table. We are served lamb chops served with a thick yellow sauce (I am served a small portion of the lamb with hardly enough of the sauce to taste it). Conversation is kept up throughout the entire meal but almost all of it is directed at Onyx. I am only included when an opinion on another tribute is requested.

Others may be a little upset at the lack of attention, but I see it as an opportunity to learn about the inner workings of the Pack. I learn that Glitz and Dalia, the two girls, are extremely competitive with one another and that it is likely that one of them will end up killing the other. It was also noted that Golorian is considered to be the weakest career, and the only reason that they are keeping him around is to get sponsor money from his good looks.

Dessert is brought out. It is a large bowl of chilled strawberries next to a fountain of liquid chocolate. I am excited until one look at Ariella tells me that I will not be allowed to eat them. Saddened, I sink back and watch as everyone else enjoys the delicious morsels.

After dinner, I head to bed. I drop the clothes on the floor and sleep in my underwear. As I slip into unconsciousness, I wonder what the final day of training will bring.

**Hey guys,**

**I realize that this is EXTREMELY late… like so late that I doubt anybody remembers what the story is about. I had kind of abandoned this one because I didn't think anybody was reading, but somebody asked if I was going to finish it. This inspired me to pick it up again, so here it is. Really sorry, and I hope you guys can forgive me. **

**Any criticism will be taken along with suggestions. If you need to go back and reread to catch up, I don't blame you. I know I did… haha.**

**Hoping I'll get another chapter up soon, but I can't promise anything. I have quite a bit of summer homework. But until then…**

**Keep reading,**

**Emmdog1994**


	8. First Blood

Chapter 8

I am troubled by a strange dream throughout the night. In it, Tessala, Aurii, Tycee and I are all sitting in a strange forest around a fire. Some kind of soup boils over the flames, and the air is sweet with the smell; however, none of the other girls is looking at the meal. Instead, their gazes are on the trees around us, their bodies tense and alert.

I look behind me and am suddenly aware of what they were looking at. All over, the leaves are damp, dripping a viscous red substance that takes me a moment to identify as blood. With a lurching feeling, I turn back to the food and look in the large pot. There, just beneath the surface of the water, is the head of Onyx.

When I wake, I am disgusted at the dream. I don't know which of my subconscious thoughts prompted the creation of such a morbid scene, but I do know that it must have something to do with the fact that I will be going into the arena with almost no support from my district. Unable to interpret anymore, I return to a half-conscious state until I am told to get up by Liliianna.

The shower I take is a whole new adventure, but I make it out only slightly worse for wear and very clean. I see the outfit that has been laid out for me, and I put it on. It is a tight blue shirt with loose fitting green shorts. I also pull back my dark, tight curls into a pony tail and head to breakfast.

I eat a bowl of dried fruit and a piece of toast while Onyx eats three plates from the buffet that has been set out for him and everyone else. I wonder briefly why he isn't on a diet, but then toss the thought from my mind. Whatever he eats he will probably work off in training.

Onyx's training while in the Capitol has consisted of mostly wrestling and sword fighting. I've seen him leave the mats dripping in sweat. But I have also seen his sparring partners leave the mat nursing bruises, cuts, and muscle aches.

At ten, Lillianna prods us towards the elevator doors and down to training. Once inside, I see Tessala standing with Aurii and Tycee. I make my way over to them.

"Hey," says Aurii to me.

"Hey," I respond with a smile. "So, I was thinking for today that we should talk about our strategy for meeting up at the Cornucopia."

"Yeah, we should," agrees Tycee. "Statistically, 19 of the past 23 arenas have had defined clearings around the cornucopia, so we could all head in one direction to meet up."

"Whichever way the tail of the horn points," contributes Tessala, "is the way we should travel. If there is a clearing, we could meet just beyond whatever defines the ring."

"Great idea!" I say. "It's a plan. Also, as supplies go, I think we should all focus on getting a weapon and food. Those will help the most."

Slowly, we work out our strategy. This will be the last time we get to talk until we're in the arena. We make a plan to meet up, decide exactly what we need from the Cornucopia, and talk about what we should do if one person gets separated from the group at the blood bath. Before long, we realize that everyone else has begun training and we are all just standing around talking.

Putting pause to the conversation until lunch, we all head to different stations to train. Despite Tessala's misgivings, I resume my combative training. With the sword, I make good improvement. But I find that I prefer fighting with a knife. My reflexes are good, and the knife doesn't slow me down like the sword does. The trainer shows me some new moves, and I gain competence quickly.

Lunch is upon us soon. I find that I am ravenous, but halfway through my enormous plate, the thought of displaying my skills to the Gamemakers makes my stomach drop. I find that I can't eat another bite.

We pick our conversation up again. We decide how to meet up if one of us gets separated at the bloodbath, and what to do if we are being pursued. The plan is slowly formed, and by the time the Gamemakers start summoning people, all the details have been sorted out.

I watch the careers from 1 and 2 get up and enter the room, one by one. Once a tribute goes in, they are not released back into lunch room. The district 3 tributes go in, then Onyx is called. My breathing grows unsteady as I anticipate being called in for my session.

The time seems to drag on while I wait, but nothing is forthcoming. Finally, after what has felt like an eternity, I hear my name. Slowly, I walk into the room and see the gamemakers staring down at me. I just stare at them, until I realize that I've been standing there like an idiot for at least twenty seconds.

I head over to the knot tying station and grab a length of rope. Then I run and grab the heavies punching bag I can find in the combat section. I bring both of these over to the monkey bars where I proceed to replicate the trap that will leave an opponent hanging from a tree. When the contraption is complete, I stand back to admire it. Making sure all the parts are right, I take one of the dummies from target practice and place him in the trap. I then release the heavy bag which triggers the trap.

I realize the whole process has only taken a few minutes, and I should probably show them something else. I request a sparring partner and retrieve a sword. Slowly, we engage into a fight. I can tell he is taking it easy on me, and I don't appreciate this. Nobody in the arena is going to take it easy on me, so why should he?

I find myself pushing harder, and suddenly a rage enters my movements. Who does this man think he is, protecting me like this? If the gamemakers are going to see what I can do, I have to show them everything I've got. I find myself now striking to attack, looking for openings. And then, I see it. The man's sword is down, and his head turned momentarily. Before I know what I'm doing, I slash at the man's side.

The heavy impact of my sword upon his ribs jars my arm, and the shriek that escapes his lips startles me, snapping me back to my senses. The man is not an enemy. He is only trying to help me out.

The blood is dripping down his side, and he screams that he can't get up. I begin to cry, but I suck my tears in so the gamemakers don't see this weakness. I look up at their faces, expecting to be reprimanded. But instead, I find one countenance reflected on each and everyone of the gamemakers' faces.

Bloodlust.

After a few moments, one of the gamemakers turns to me and dismisses me. I turn on a heel, and walk quietly out of the training room, the man's moans of anguish still tearing through me.

As I enter the elevator, the tears begin flowing down my face. I have suddenly been hit by all my fears. Fears of killing. I don't want to be that girl that goes completely savage and primal. But I don't want to be killed either. And if I had to pick, would I rather die as myself or live as someone I'm not?

I rush to my room before anyone can see my tears. I briefly gaze upon all the mentors surrounding Onyx in the living room, none of them even looking my way. I slam the door in disgust, and bolt it with a shriek.

I lay on my bed until my tears are all gone, leaving me alone with the occasional sob and the constant doubt.

I am not a killer.

But I am not a quitter.

I must pick one.

Eventually, I decide to get up and walk it off. When I exit the room, Ariella is waiting to bombard me at the table, so I sit down with her. "What happened?" she asks simply.

And I burst into tears. Over the next hour, I recount to her what happened and all my fears. She caresses my hair, and its very awkward and forced. But I've been so starved for compassion in this place that I don't care.

At the end of the talk, she tells me that it will be fine. I don't believe her. I'm going to die. How is that alright?

That night at dinner, I get to hear all about how impressive Onyx thought he was for the gamemakers. Once again, he begins talking about the team dynamics as if I am not there. He tells the table how the pack is planning to kill off Golorian as soon as the pool gets down to eight tributes. I feel bad for him, but one less pack member is one less person that will be lusting for my blood.

Later that night after the rest of the table has enjoyed their dessert, we all gather around the television and watch as the training scores start to roll past. Golorian receives a 7 which I would call a good score, but Onyx mocks him for it. Glitz, the first from district 1, receives a 8. Both Tymus and Dalia receive 9s also. The tributes from 3 receive very low scores, and then Onyx pulls a 10. I don't even have time to be nervous before I see my face on the screen with the number 8.

I can't believe it. For some odd reason, the gamemakers awarded me for hurting one of their people. And for the first time, I get a sense of the people who are running this show. They are heartless. They are cold. And they want me to be that way too.


	9. Dress to Impress

**Hey Guys!**

**I am so sorry that updates are so few and far between! Hopefully I can change that. Until then, please bear with me. **

**Also, you might want to go check out the end of last chapter. I realized shortly after posting it that I had left out a couple paragraphs at the end, so I updated it, but apparently the site didn't notify you guys. I was wondering why you guys were wondering what Mags's training score was… haha**

**So… here is the next chapter. **

**Read, review, all that jazz. Much appreciated.**

Chapter 9

The next morning, I am surprised that nobody wakes me up. It appears to be late morning when I wake up, so I stroll down to the dining room to get some food. I find Blythe and Onyx in there, sitting at the table with a deck of cards and immersed in a deep conversation. When I step close enough to hear what they're talking about, they both turn and give me looks that could kill.

"We're having a private training session," says Blythe, as if I'm a complete idiot for not knowing what they were doing.

"Training for what?" I ask back. I don't mean to offend her, but my remark brings out a scowl on her face.

"For the interview, smarty," she tells me. "If you had any sense, you'd be preparing yourself." She then turns her attention back to Onyx, but I am not finished with her.

"You know what?" I ask her confidently as I can muster. "I am sick of you treating me like I went and ruined your career. I am the one who is about to die here, not you. So stop acting like a victim. Get off your high horse long enough to understand my point of view. I am about to go into an arena where I will probably die, I am surrounded by people who have completely given up on me, and you can't even find the decency to educate me on what's going on!"

The look of shock that was settled on her face turns to anger a few moments after I end my rant. She promptly stands up, and shouts back at me, "You little brat! I'll teach you a lesson!" And then she raises her hand to slap me across the face. I close my eyes and brace for the impact.

But it doesn't come. Instead, I hear a whoosh of air and a small sound of flesh on flesh. I open my eyes and find the outstretched hand of Ariella holding back the angry hand of Blythe. Blythe's eyes have gone from angry to livid as she stares at the stern face of Ariella who appeared out of nowhere.

"How dare you defy me," Blythe spits at the redheaded girl. Ariella's face is calm as she speaks back.

"She is right. And just because you don't like the truth doesn't give you the right to hit her. If you touch her, I'll have you turned into the Gamemakers for harming the tributes before they enter the arena." I am shocked and grateful, and a strange feeling has washed over me.

"You. Wouldn't. Dare." The words drip from Blythe's mouth, like acid.

"Watch me," says Ariella with all the security in the world. She is so sure of herself that everyone else became aware of her honesty instantly. With a final glance, her eyes leave Blythe and land on me. She grabs my hand and pulls me into the living room.

When we sit down, she tells me that we need to prepare me for my interview the following day. "I don't know how we're going to display you though," she tells me.

"What do you mean," I ask quietly but with interest.

"We've got to give you an image. You need to go into the interview with a clear intention on how you will act. Some kids like to come off as bloodthirsty and ruthless. Others try to come off mysterious. Yet others act coy and innocent. It is all about strategy." She says all this very calmly. Since my outburst at Blythe and her consequent rescue, she seems to regard me as less of a pain in her side than as a student. I am very grateful for her change in sentiment.

"Well do you have any ideas?" I ask. I am curious, but her words have sparked a little fear in me. I'm an awful actor.

"Well," she says in a long, drawn out way. "I was thinking that the audience doesn't know that you're not part of this year's pack yet. You volunteered, and you're from District 4. I figured you would get a low score and tip them off, but an eight is an acceptable score for one of our trained tributes. If you don't have any objections, I'd like to make you look just like any other volunteer from District 4."

I have to think about what she says carefully. Not only do I want to make an impression in my interview; I want to get sponsors, as well. But I don't know why I would try so hard to come off as a career if the moment the games start and the pack tries to slit my throat, the audience will know.

"I'll do it," I tell her after a few more moments of thought. I see no reason that pretending to be one of them could hurt me. And if the audience believes that at one point I was, then I betrayed them, perhaps they will consider it a tactical move. It could all work out to my benefit.

Ariella and I spend the next few hours working out just how best to come off as a trained killer without actually cutting my interviewers throat. We also work on answering questions in a way that is aimed to make me look desirable as well as lethal. Ariella says I don't have anything on tributes like Tessala, Glitz, or Dalia, but I'll do.

The questions are actually kind of tough. It is difficult to put a hostile spin on some questions, like ones about my clothes, but I find the training to be very helpful. I can soon turn any question to my benefit until, a little before dinner time, Ariella deems me acceptable.

Ariella also pulls me aside to make sure I can walk in high heel shoes. I've worn them a few times before, but none of them have been as spindly nor as tall as the pair I have to practice in. It takes me about an hour to master them through an intense high-heel obstacle course that Ariella designs for me.

If past dinners have been bad, this one is dreadful. It seems that the other victors have heard about what went on between Blythe and Ariella. I can see they agree with Ariella because they both make awkward attempts to include me into the sparse conversation over dinner. But at the same time, I can see they don't want to defy Blythe.

For lack of anything better to do, I retire to bed early. I linger in the shower, letting the hot water wash over me, calm me. I allow myself to think for the first time about actually going into the arena. About being forced to kill someone, many someones, if I want to ever see my family again. And if I don't kill, then I'll be killed.

And as much as I hate the idea of killing, I know that my drive to stay alive will make me.

I leave the bathroom and dress in a nightgown for bed. I take a few minutes to brush through my hair before I lay down even though the machine outside the shower has already dried and straightened it. The routine relaxes me, and by the time I lay down, I am very ready to sleep.

The morning comes, and I am whisked out of bed by my prep team. Still half asleep, they lead me to a place full of tools to beautify me. But first, they clean me from head to foot, scrubbing with sponges, brushes, and what seem to be swathes of sand paper. Hours pass as they scrupulously wash away the smallest traces of filth from my skin. Eventually, they begin to work on painting and making over my body, and I fall into an easy slumber as they diligently pass the time.

I am shaken awake an unknown number of hours later. The passing of the time has eluded me, but I can tell that the day is well into the afternoon if not bordering on evening because of the aching hunger in my stomach.

Heebee is standing in front of me holding what I presume is my dress in a bag. Also, he is holding—thank god—a plate of food in his other hand. I don't even look at what it is before I cram it in my mouth. I finish the plate and feel infinitely better. I then turn to him, waiting for him to speak.

"So," he starts, and I seem to catch some indicator in his voice that I am not going to like his next words. "Because of the plan you and Ariella worked out together, we have had to redesign the dress you were going to wear to the interview. Your original dress was a bit more…" he hesitates, searching for the right word. "…modest."

Modest? What does that mean? Am I going up in a bikini? "Why can't my dress be modest?" I ask in a soft voice.

"Well," he says gently, "members of the pack usually use everything they can to get sponsors and to show their willingness to compete. And sometimes that involves dressing in certain ways…" He trails off at the end, clearly realizing that his words were only scaring me more. He then moved to the zipper on the bag, and started to reveal my dress… if you could call it a dress.

From what I gather after examining the "dress," I see that it appears to be nothing more than an oversized plastic bag filled with water and many live, exotic fish. They swim around in the clear environment, oblivious to the horror they are causing me. Beneath the fashionable aquarium, I will have nothing on.

While I put the dress on, Heebee tries to prepare me. He tells me that I'm going to look sexy, and I need to stop being so self conscious. But I don't want the whole country to see me naked. The idea scares me horribly.

But about an hour before the interview, I really come to accept my role. I have got to go out on that stage, and act like an arrogant girl who wants to kill someone and is ready to do something as reckless as walk out in a see through dress to do it.

The team finishes my hair, and before I know it, I am whisked away and shoved up on stage with the other tributes. Instantly, I am the center of attention because of my outfit. Tycee and Aurii both approach me tentatively to get a look at my attire, but they quickly find that it is hard to admire the dress without admiring the flesh beneath.

A few minutes before the show starts, we are hushed and corralled into our seats. The lights go out, and soon the legendary voice of Julius Avery booms out across the massive crowd that has gathered to watch the interviews. After a brief introduction, Glitz is called to the stage, and the show begins.

During the various interviews of the careers that precede me, I take mental notes about how they act. Glitz, who is nearly as scantily dressed as I am in a dress made solely of clear diamonds that do very little to hide anything, acts sly and dangerous. Golorian, the boy from District 1, acts less mysterious and makes it obvious that he plans on killing without mercy until there are none left to oppose him.

The pair from District 2, Dalia and Tymus, follow in similar fashion, then the pair from District 3 go without making an impression. And then, before I know it, I am called to the stage.

I walk out and am immediately met with a gasp from the crowd. I look up and see myself on the screens. The lighting on the stage has made the fish glow all different hews of the rainbow. Also, the shimmering of the light on the water inside the dress has distorted the shape of my body, giving it shape and curves that do not actually exist. I am suddenly gripped with a sense of gratitude for Heebee and I no longer feel nearly as embarrassed as before.

As I sit down on the chair, Julius dives straight into the questions. "So, Mags, what was it like to arrive in the capitol?" he asks.

"It was a bit surreal, to _finally _be here," I say, making sure to emphasize the word finally, making it obvious that I planned to be here. "But I never imagined that it would be this colorful or this big." The crowd seems to love my answer, obviously taking pride in their city and their superiority.

"Well," says Julius. "are you ready for the games to start tomorrow? Any nerves?"

"No, I'm just ready to get them started. The sooner they start, the sooner I can go home!" I say, my voice dripping with confidence. The crowd is loving my answers, and I am just doing my best to keep the shaking in my legs from making its way up to my mouth.

"Wow, you are a confident one," Julius says with a smile. "That's what I like to see! So tell us, how do you think your competitors stack up this year?"

"I don't think they can hold a candle to me, Julius" I mutter. "Really, once they see what I can do, these games will be over in no time! You just watch, and I'll see you right back here in a few days." The words sound overly arrogant to me, but I know from watching pack members for years that these responses will not seem out of place.

The crowd is listening intently, but I can tell my time is getting down to the end. I guess there is time for one last question, so Julius asks me, "Mags, what do you think about this costume? It is just fabulous!"

"Well," I begin, standing up slowly, partially to appear appealing, partially to make sure I don't fall due to the heels I am in. "I think Heebee did an _excellent _job," I say, and I can hear the audience's intake of breath as my whole figure is revealed. They shriek with ascent as my buzzer goes off, and Julius thanks me and I regain my seat with the other tributes.

The rest of the interviews are predictable. Onyx goes up and woos the audience with his smile and bloodlust. Tycee shows her knowledge of the games and tells Julius how her intelligence will help her win the games. Aurii goes up and tries to appear cunning and mysterious. Tessala appears on stage and you can tell the crowd is in love with her already.

After the interviews, we are all led back to the training center and I take a swift elevator ride up to my room. I lay down immediately, knowing that I need sleep desperately.

I wake many times throughout the night, but after a certain point, I fall into a decent sleep, numbing my wandering mind.

This will be my last night of peace.

**Hey everybody! Look, two updates within a month! I don't think I've done that in over a year! Haha but I hope you guys haven't given up on me. This movie coming out will give me the motivation to keep writing, and I am setting a goal to have five more chapters before the release! **

**If you guys have any ideas you'd like to see in the story, feel free to PM me. I don't even know for sure what the arena will be like, but I do already know who the victor will be… haha if you don't, try reading Catching Fire… Anyway, please review. I look forward to completing this story with you all there with me!**

**Keep Reading,**

**Emmdog**


	10. Flesh and Blood

Chapter 10

I wake with a start as Lillianna rushes into my room. She frantically yells at me to get up, and I am hurried into simple clothes by my prep team. I just have time to eat a banana before I am half escorted, half pushed onto a hovercraft. I sleep through the whole ride, and when I am shaken awake, Heebee and I have arrived at the launch rooms.

We take a short walk to the room that has been prepared for me which is neat and small. There is a small amount of food there, and I eat it all, knowing that it could be a while before I eat again. There is also a package sitting out on the table. Heebee opens it, revealing my outfit.

The clothes are simple, but Heebee sees functionality. He points to a pair of brown shorts and a tight green shirt. "These are designed to keep the wearer cool and to dry quickly." The next item is a pair of brown shoes. Heebee tells me that they are waterproof and also very durable. "Given the items so far, I'd expect some sort of watery arena."

That is all there is in the bag. Given past arenas, I know that clothes reflect the arena (except for one year where they threw everyone out in the snow stark naked and put all the clothes at the cornucopia), and these clothes seem to indicate a warm, wet climate.

No sooner have I made this conclusion that the call for me to enter the glass cylinder that I have been trying to avoid looking at comes. I follow instructions, and soon the door closes around me, and my metal plate begins to rise. Heebee gives me one silent nod as I disappear into the darkness above me. During those thirty seconds of blackness, I try to compose myself, settle my breathing, and remind myself that I am responsible for finding food and a weapon before meeting up with the group.

Light breaks above me, and I am greeted with the familiar smell of salt water. It reminds me of home, and for a moment I am comforted, forgetting why exactly I am here. But then I do remember, and I take a look around me.

All around, tributes are rising into a circle around the giant gleaming horn. We are on a bare island of beautiful white sand, surrounded all around by crystalline turquoise water. In all directions, I see islands resembling this one, with the addition of trees. They don't appear to be big, and there doesn't seem to be a pattern to their location and distance from one another.

Two tributes to my right, I see Aurii with a determined countenance awaiting the gong. I decide to run towards her as soon as we are released, thinking that two of us together will be stronger than on our own. The ground before is littered with backpacks and supplies, food and containers of water, weapons, fire starters.

The gong rings out, and the majority of tributes lunge forward. I run straight for Aurii, ignoring the small District 8 girl who is hesitating on her plate. Aurii dashes twenty yards in and grabs two knives. She senses me to her left and nearly drives the blade into my abdomen before realizing who I am.

"Whew, close one!" I say. She nods, and hands me the knife. We run in another ten yards and each grab two backpacks. As we do, we hear the sound of an approaching opponent. We look up and see Tymus, the boy from Distict 2. He has a spear in one hand and a knife in the other. He looks us up and down, waiting for us to make our move.

I size him up. He has large muscles, but something about him just doesn't look too smart. And though I believe that Aurii and I together could take him, flight from this place full of killers is essential. Aurii seems to have reached the same conclusion. She makes as if to throw her knife at Tymus. He flinches, and we pounce at the opportunity to run. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I see that he has abandoned any thought of chasing us when easier prey waits for him at the cornucopia.

We sprint to the edge of the island. A few tributes are already making their way through the water which only goes up about waist high. I look to the cornucopia and see that the tail points a little ways to our right. There, Tessala is already waiting for us, armed with a sword and a large jug of water.

Joining her, we look around the island for a sign of Tycee. We see her, forty yards away, locked in battle with a boy, I think from District 12. He has the upper hand with a sword, but Tycee is quick and continues to evade his blows.

"We need to help her," I say to the other two.

"Are you crazy?" says Tessala, "we'll be killed!" She looks to Aurii for confirmation, but Aurii I can tell is agreeing with me.

"Hurry, before anyone else joins that fight" she says, and we take off towards Tycee. With a resigned sigh, I hear Tessala follow. As we reach the pair, I strike at the boy. He lunges back at me, but I jump out of the way just in time. Aurii tries to split to his other side and attack from there, but he swings the sword around and catches her in the hip, leaving her a mildly deep gash.

Tessala engages the boy with her blade of equal length, and it is clear she is the stronger swordsman. She pushes him side to side, before disarming him. He turns to run, straight towards me, and, before I think about what I'm doing, I reach out and stab him in the stomach with my knife.

His blood runs down my hand as I sink the blade deeper into his abdomen. I hear the breath go out of him, and I look into his dark brown eyes. He stares back at me, but I don't think he sees me. He Is looking past me, through me, seeing something so much more important than the face of his killer.

And suddenly, I hear Aurii calling my name. "Mags! Mags! We've got to go!" So with a last heartless motion, I yank the knife from the boy, and he collapses on the ground. I look at him one last time, then turn away and run after the three girls ahead of me.

We throw ourselves into the water in a dead run. But the height of it prevents moving at great speed. Aurii's injury slows us further, the salt water making her gasp. But we press on, headed towards a random island.

As we progress through the water, it becomes deeper and deeper, and the island seems to be farther away than I had thought. And bigger. But when the water reaches our necks, it seems to bottom out and the floor of the sea begins to tilt up. After about two hours of walking, we reach the island. Worried that we've been in full view of the careers through the whole trek, I tell the other girls to plunge directly into the trees when they reach shore.

There is a short stretch of beach before a thick line of forest. The sand is the same color and texture as the sand on the cornucopia, though without the blood stains. We pull ourselves onto land and into the merciful cover of trees. Throwing the packs in the middle, we sit down in a small circle and gasp for breath.

From the copse in the trees, we look over to the main island with the cornucopia. I can see the hovercraft, collecting the bodies now, while the careers stand off to one side, piling all the supplies together. Unfortunately, all six appear to be there, though one or two are limping.

We decide to go through the six backpacks we grabbed in total (Tessala grabbed the pack and the sword of the boy I had stabbed before we left), and the varied weapons. We dump the contents on the ground, and begin to sort them. We have three full bottles of water, several packets of dried food, six knives, 2 swords, two spools of rope, several packets of matches, a floatation device, a large plastic tarp, two first aid kits, a heavy mace, and a pair of binoculars. All in all, we are overjoyed that we have all survived with only one injury to the group, and with this many supplies.

The only thing we are lacking a significant amount of is food. We have enough to hold us off for a while, but we don't want to plunge into that too soon. So we decide to trek around this island before heading off to another island. We decide that we can't stay here, seeing as the careers saw us coming this way, but it is safe to be here for now while the careers are still on the main island.

As we walk into the forest, we hear the cannon shots. We count on our fingers, until, after the tenth shot, there are no more. Ten dead at the cornucopia. Fourteen left to compete. Six of them are careers, four of them are us. We'll know who the other four are tonight when they show the faces of the dead in the sky.

We don't find anything too promising in the forest, but we do find a solo pineapple and a couple fruit growing on trees that resemble pears. We don't trust the pears, but Tycee seems to remember seeing them at the plant table. She volunteers to eat a small bite, and when she isn't dead within half an hour, we return to the tree and gather the other dozen or so fruit that grow on its branches.

With our fruit, we return to the beach where we landed. Very little change has come over the career's beach except, curiously, there are only five of them there. From this distance, we can't make out who is missing, but we know that nobody has died since we last counted six, or we would have heard a cannon.

We eat fruit on the fringe of the jungle, watching for signs of career movement, but we don't see any until sundown. Then, just as the beautiful orange sun disappears over the horizon, we see a swift moving figure swimming from an island towards them. We watch its progress through the water, and when he pulls himself up out of the water, I realize it is Onyx. With a feeling of dread, I inform my group that Onyx can swim great distances with little effort and great speed. He was probably scouting out the lay of the islands so he could report back to the other pack members.

"Can you swim?" Tycee asks me.

"Well," I answer. "Yeah, I can. Everyone in District 4 can." They all look at me like I can fly, but swimming is just so normal in our district that nobody really thinks twice about not being able to.

"Can you teach us?" Tessala asks.

This question catches me off guard. The nice person in me is just about ready to tell them that I can, that I will. But then the part of me that is thinking about my survival tells me to think about this decision. In this arena, being able to swim is an advantage, no question. It will give me a means of escape from everybody except Onyx. And farther down the road, I just may have to evade my teammates.

So I compromise. "I can teach you how to tread water," I say. Treading water will keep them from drowning, but it will put them in no position to catch me. "Tomorrow, we'll work on it."

As the light fades, the capital seal appears in the sky, accompanied by the anthem. In the sky, we watch the faces of the tributes who died today. The first to appear is the pair from District 3. Then, the boy from 5, both from 6, the girl from 8, both from 9 and 10, and, lastly and most painfully for me, the boy from 12.

That leaves all the careers, us four, and four more. We put together that Tycee was the only one whose district partner died. That means the boys from 7 and 11 are still at large, and, of course Onyx. The other two are the boy from 8 and the girl from 12. We don't remember much about them, so we don't discuss them much.

As all light disappears from the arena except for the fire on the career's beach, we decide it's time to leave this island for another one. We grab all of our supplies and begin to hike to the other side of the island to travel away from the careers' camp.

**Hey, sorry its been a while since updating. Hope you guys are still reading!**

**Let me know how you like the chapter. Getting reviews is the best motivation to keep writing (Big part of why this chapter has taken so long – no reviews ). So just review, it takes like ten seconds! Haha, I'll do my best to update promptly. **

**Keep Reading,**

**Emmdog1994**


	11. Kyro

**Hey All! So sorry this update is late. School got crazy towards the end of the year, so I'm putting in a little time here and there to get this thing done. Hope you are all still reading, and I'll try to be more diligent about getting this story written.**

Chapter 11

In the dark, the water is eerily black. The only light comes from the full moon behind us which illuminates an island in the distance. This is our destination. It doesn't appear too far away, a couple miles at most. So we keep eerily marching on, not talking, only murmured comments every couple of minutes.

As we reach about half way between the islands, we encounter a problem. The gentle incline is beginning to go low enough that Tycee, the shortest in the group, is up to her chin. If the water gets any deeper, she won't be able to breathe.

"Okay," I say upon discovering the predicament. "Tycee, you take this flotation device and I'll push you along. Hopefully everyone else can still breathe as we approach the island." The small, orange ring that we've been using to float our packs is powerful, and it might even support two people, but I'm hoping we won't need it to.

The trek continues, and after several hours, we reach a point where the ground begins to slope upward. With this encouraging fact to spur us on, we pick up the pace and are soon pulling ourselves onto the beach of this new island. It seems to be bigger than the one we were just on which is both comforting because it will offer more vegetation for possible food sources, but other tributes could more easily be concealed from us.

We fall upon the beach and gasp for breath. All of us exhausted, we talk about who should keep watch and who should get to sleep. We agree that, since Tycee floated most of the way to the island, she should keep watch until the sun comes up, then she will wake me up.

I pull out the tarp we picked up at the cornucopia and lay it down for us to sleep on. Luckily, the arena's climate has stayed warm through the night, so we strip off our sopping clothes and sleep in our underwear. The sand seems to have found its way everywhere already—in my hair, under my nails, and in my eyes—so I don't even try to get it off before drifting into a quiet sleep with the familiar sound of the ocean lulling me to sleep.

All too soon, Tycee shakes me awake. Disoriented at first, I realize where I am and that I must get up and take watch. Knowing that I'll just end up getting them wet again, I don't put my clothes back on. Instead, I slowly walk into the warm water and take a quick bath, shaking out the sand from my hair.

The other girls have moved the tarp from the beach into the forest to conceal our whereabouts, so I quickly follow suit and hide myself in the trees. As my three companions begin to doze off, I take to looking for edible plants on the perimeter of the camp. I soon discover a few pieces of fruit that I recognize from the table at the training center, and begin to pluck them from the branches.

The morning is dragging on when I begin to hear a noise. It is not so loud a noise, but it is consistent, coming every five to ten seconds, from what appears to be the other side of the island. As the hours go on, I become more and more curious. Not wanting to wake anyone in the group, I quietly walk towards the sound.

After walking about ten minutes, the noise seems to be just on the other side of a clearing. I dare not enter the clearing, especially since I forgot to grab any weapon to defend myself. Instead, I slowly peek my head around the tree. On the far side of the clearing, I see a boy, from District 7. That would make him Aurii's district partner.

He is constructing some sort of trap I think. There is a large hole in the ground, and he seems to be using a large rock to hammer something at the bottom, but it is obscured from my view. Having seen enough, I tiptoe back to camp.

Rousing the girls, we arm ourselves and head back in the direction I remember the boy being. I tell Aurii on the way that it is the boy from her district. She only pauses slightly before telling me that he should be no problem. He is only fifteen, and small for his age. He only received a six in training. Then, most hauntingly, she tells me that his name is Kryo.

Knowing his name makes the killing personal. I feel like—even though I've never met him—that I know him. Like I am killing a person, not an obstacle. But I shove these doubts deep inside myself, steeling myself for the sticky task that stands between me and ever getting out of this arena. For if I plan to leave this place, I will have to kill.

When we approach the clearing, I hush all the girls. They, too, can hear the repetitive noise that I heard. So we creep up and watch him from between the trees. If he were to look this way, he would see us, but he is absorbed in his task. We check his supplies, and we see what looks like the hilt of some sort of machete near a backpack, but it is several paces away from the hole he is building. The large rock in his hand could be used as a weapon if he couldn't reach the machete in time.

Just as we are about to recede into the trees to plan an attack, a cannon is heard over the trees behind us. The boy looks up into the sky, and then his eyes fall down back to the trees and land on us, looking right at us. The shock registers on his face, and we know we have been seen. We burst from the bushes and launch ourselves at him.

He is quick though. Before we have even run half way across the clearing, he has grabbed the machete—a long, sharp blade that could easily cut through human limbs—and throws the large stone at us. The rock flies with surprising speed considering its weight and connects with Tessala's foot. She falls to the ground, but we do not stop to help her, knowing that letting this boy escape is far too dangerous. Not only has he seen our location, but he has seen that we are fighting in a group and that we are well armed.

Just as I had imagined, the boy flees in the face of three adversaries. He runs straight through the trees, recklessly, even tripping once on a tree root. We know that we are on an island and that he will only reach water, not salvation.

Sure enough, the heavy, dark soil starts to transition into the soft, white sand of the beaches, and then there is nowhere for the boy to run except into the water. He launches himself against the ebbing waves, taking long strides into the sea. He is waist deep when we reach the beach. He turns to us, seeing that we have slowed at the water.

"Aurii," he shouts. "How could you? I thought we were going to team up after the cornucopia!" He is angry, but there is no trace of fear in his voice. He thinks he has escaped.

Aurii, standing beside me, is lost for words. I can see the conflict on her face, the guilt and the sadness. "I…" she stammers. "I had to do what was best for me. I'm sorry Ky." And now the tears are rolling down her face, the first real sign of emotion I've seen her let out since entering the arena.

"Whatever, Aurii. I guess I'll see you around." The sarcasm in his voice sounded a bit like arrogance, and I decided it was time to shut him up. Grabbing my knife, I dove into the waves. I heard the sharp intake of breath from Aurii as I left, but I didn't have time to let her sort out her feelings about this Kyro. Maybe he was her long time friend or boyfriend. But whatever he was to her, he was my enemy.

He saw me coming, so he turned and ran the other way. But as soon as I was in the water up to my knees, I dove beneath the waves and began to swim under water towards the splashing boy. Opening my eyes, I felt the salt in the water burn, but I had been accustomed to this sensation since I was a child. I could see clearly that I was gaining on him.

As I approached him, I had to take a breath. He heard me break the surface of the water, and he slashed at my head with the machete. Luckily, it was difficult for him to do this while running the other way, so he missed by a wide margin. Not wanting to take any more chances, I dove down several feet. The water was now at his mid chest, so he was unable to move at a very fast pace.

Easy target.

Underwater, I used my knife and slashed cruelly at the back of his knees. Even from the depths of the water, I could hear his agonized screams. I cut the arteries in his knees, followed by those in his thighs. Then, I yanked at his shirt and pulled him down under the waves with me.

Doing my best not to look at his agonized face as I did so, I slit his throat. Unable to shriek this time, he simply clutched at his throat and gasped for air. Because I was still holding him under water, his lungs instantly filled with water, and I knew he would drown. At this point, I shoved the pathetic, bloody, lifeless figure away from me, and swam back towards the beach.

As I surfaced, I saw the fear in the faces of Aurii and Tycee. Looking behind me, I saw a giant cloud of murky, red water where I had killed the boy. Aurii was still crying, but, in her defense, she did look extremely relieved to see me.

I pulled myself up on the beach just as Kyro's cannon fired. Tycee and Aurii both nodded at me, and without looking back at the water where a hovercraft was now collecting the body, we walked back into the woods to find Tessala.

She had remained in the clearing, unable to walk. Tycee, who worked a lot with first aid in the training center, takes a look at her foot and thinks it might be broken. While she examines it, I take a look at the hole the boy was building. It is about five feet deep, and at the bottom, he had nailed large, sharpened sticks that jut out at odd angles. I would not want to be the one to fall in it.

I rejoin the girls. Tycee, with the assistance of Aurii, has placed a splint on Tessala's foot and is helping her walk. As we trek back to our supplies, I find it hard to ignore the fact that Tessala has become a liability, slowing us down. But for the time being, she will not be a burden, so I say nothing. I know that she will be unable to run from enemies, so she will distract them while I run.

We reach camp and spend the evening eating some fruit we gather as well as a loaf of bread from our supplies. I'm surprised by how much food we have left from the cornucopia, even after two full days in the arena. The islands have provided well, and I am relieved that it is unlikely that we will starve here.

As dusk swallows the arena, the giant screen appears with the capitol's seal. The anthem blasts in our ears, and we see Kyro's face, followed soon after by the face of the girl from District 12. I realize with apprehension that only two rouge tributes remain besides the pack and our own alliance. And I know that in the days ahead, things are going to quite interesting, and I can only hope that I will be there to see the story unfold.

**Hello!**

**I can only apologize so many times for the amount of time between updates, but I do genuinely feel bad for making you guys wait. You were so great about reviews, so I just had to get this written. I'm hoping that there will not be so extensive a wait for the next chapter, and I'm sure you are all hoping that too! Keep reviewing, it makes me write faster. Until next time!**

**Keep Reading,**

**Emmdog94**


End file.
